Paradise of Imprisonment
by vancesedecim
Summary: Mr. Wuncler has plans for a prison of dancers in the Philippines that involves Haruhi in control and the Freeman boys as backup dancers. Is a comfortable prison worth an uneasy freedom?
1. Prologue

The Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center is a maximum security prison in the tenth district of the Philippines.

On December 26, 2004 the inmates stormed the dormitory and took 56 minors as hostages for a mass break out; when the governor, Gwendolyn Garcia, received word of this she called in her brother, Byron, to head the crisis team. The next day the inmates were subdued and transported to a new CPDRC, and all done with no casualties.

The governor of Cebu Province assigned Bryon Garcia as head of the new CPDRC afterwards. Mr. Garcia made the prison famous by starting a program where inmates performed choreographed dances, including "Thriller" (by Michael Jackson) and "Hare Hare Yukai" (from the Haruhi Suzumiya series).

Mr. Garcia created the revolutionary dance program as an alternative to militant discipline so that the prisoners could vent their negative emotions efficiently and constructively; the prisoners also receive payment for their performances (Thriller earned each inmate 1,000 pesos).

Prison rehabilitation experts and human rights campaigners claim that dance routines are exploitative and degrading. Prisoners who refuse to do the dances have been harassed by other prisoners as confirmed by former prisoners. Supporters claim the dancing method of reform in prison has reduced violence, drugs, and many other counter-productive rehabilitation behaviors, yet this does not hinder the audacity in some inmates.

All prisoners, privileged or no, have one goal to strive for - freedom.


	2. Chapter 1

CEBU, PHILIPPINES

On a night almost as dark as the eclipse, the almost star-less sky with its cloud-covered moon showers the lands in a very low luminescence. The limousine trudges through the dirt pathway to the front gates of the prison complex leaving a trail of dark brown fog to linger in the night's air, as if it were a carriage driven by the horsemen of Apocalypse to the gates of hell itself scattering ashes in its wake.

Exiting from the backseat of the limousine was a short, heavy, bald, old Caucasian man with a stern look on his face and a twinkle of greed-fueled excitement in his eyes that could put the Grinch himself to shame; that man's name was: Edward Wuncler Sr., the owner of the famous Wuncler franchise. Mr. Wuncler is a bitter, corrupted man who would do anything for money no matter who he put in harm's way; paper is thicker than both blood and water to him. Mr. Wuncler is the type of guy who would fake your parents' suicide to sell you to a Chinese dog meat factory disguised as an orphanage then send your puppy there right afterwards, and all while fighting the urge to laugh hysterically.

That being said, he rarely left the suburbs of Woodcrest in Chicago, Illinois where he usually resided unless it was for important business matters. Mr. Wuncler had arrived at the gates of the CPDRC to talk with the owner, Byron Garcia, about a promotional commercial for his new Mega-Mall franchise "Wunc-Mart" and its donation program. Mr. Wuncler managed to afford several hundred locations around the U.S. from California to Florida to Maine, especially thanks to the money he won from the Chinese in that kickball game between Huey and Ming.

"Mr. Wuncler sir, it is 11:05PM. Mr. Garcia is 5 minutes late" said the chauffeur.

"You see this contraption on my wrist?" Mr. Wuncler said.

"Yes sir"

"What is it?" Mr. Wuncler asked in a dark, condescending tone.

"A watch, sir" answered the chauffeur cautiously.

"And what do watches do, exactly?" Mr. Wuncler asked with a smidgen of unrest.

"T-tell time, sir" answered the chauffeur.

"Watches tell time, NOT job as a chauffeur is to tell me things I know AND want to hear. 'Nice job, Mr. Wuncler' 'That was some greater-than-Al Capone gangster shit you just pulled, Mr. Wuncler' 'That cougar you're bangin' has tits that put Nicki Minaj to shame and DSLs like a rubber duck, Mr. Wuncler!' Those are the only acceptable communications to be spewed from your cock-deposit of a speaking hole. Now if you don't start kissin' my ass to the point where you can taste my breakfast, brunch, pre-lunch, lunch, dinner, dessert, and midnight snack then I'll find a chauffeur who will, DAMNIT!" Mr. Wuncler replied with a raging lack of subtlety that elicited a completely frightened reaction from the chauffeur who, as a man in his mid 20s', resembled a small child about to receive punishment for their insubordination.

"Y-yes sir Mr. Wuncler, sorry for my insubordination sir". Suffice to say the chauffeur, the person tasked with simply driving from point A to point B, was successfully put into a state of psychological submission in less than two minutes; Mr. Wuncler was a master at the art of "mind-fucking" people, and no, he didn't care to use protection.

Byron Garcia could be seen in the distance approaching the prison gates and Mr. Wuncler gave the welcoming, yet smug smirk of his that he always used when getting down to business. Once the guards opened the gates for Mr. Wuncler to enter the prison grounds he walked up to Byron Garcia with his moderately glad facial expression and shook his hand promptly and firmly.

"Hello Mr. Edward Wuncler, and welcome to the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center. You wanted to talk with me about doing a commercial for your new lovely donation program?" Mr. Garcia gleefully exclaimed to Mr. Wuncler.

"Why yes I did, there's quite a bit for us to discuss Byron. It's okay if I call you Byron, right?" Mr. Wuncler replied heartily.

"Of course it is Mr. Wuncler. The CPDRC is all about encouraging socially positive behavior. The human body and mind must be trained to resist any and all evils of the thriller. So many prisons today are living hells; the wardens forget that reinforcing good behavior is the purpose of rehabilitation, not punishing bad behavior. That is why we here at the CPDRC always have our eyes, ears, and arms open for any strangers, regardless of their differences."

'_You keep your mouths open a hell of a lot too!'_Mr. Wuncler thought to himself jokingly. "What's with that 'evils of the thriller' thing you just said?"

"It is to my belief that the human mind has a side of deep rooted evil urges best explained by Michael Jackson's song _Thriller_ in which succumbing to sinful temptations turns human beings into monsters, which is why I've created a reform program for the prisoners to vent their negative emotions in a constructive manner that elicits happiness and creativity so that they can grow up well and leave the prison ready to deal with society."

Mr. Garcia's warm and sincere response surprised Mr. Wuncler. Mr. Wuncler had treated those he judged to be lesser people as lesser people consistently in order to establish his dominant status in their minds and further associate his business as superior to others' intentions, a natural adaptation in his line of work, and yet here stood before him a man who truly cared for the welfare of lesser people. Mr. Garcia's earnest expression and extremely faithful beliefs portrayed him to Mr. Wuncler as, either a man of honesty and good will or a deceitful businessman who was trying way too hard; nevertheless, he was just another deal, an ignorant soul who would learn the consequences of dancing with the devil.

"Now that sounds like a lovely idea, I have a grandson you know, he's got a lot of energy and spunk, maybe he can join your program, hell I bet one of those uniforms would make him quite the sight!"

As frequently as his grandson, Ed Wuncler III, got into trouble it wasn't hard for Mr. Wuncler to imagine him in a jumpsuit anyhow.

"He he, you are a very funny man, Mr. Wuncler."

"Alright, let's get down to business; I have an idea for one of these new fads with the kids, something called the otaku craze, I hear they'll pay hundreds each. I'm thinking of having Haruhi come down here to do a dance with your prisoners. It'll be great! And then we can use the advertisement to promote Wunc-Mart's donations and expand it to other countries, including yours, allowing it to provide shelter and food to the poor as well as your institute."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea, Mr. Wuncler. You know I do not like commercializing my work or receiving spite for my methods, and this idea of yours will remedy both of my problems."

"Let's discuss more of this inside. I'll give a brief go-over of the details with you until my conglomerate arrives. Oh, and by the way, call me Ed."

"Sure, right this way Mr. Wuncler. Oop, my apologies sir!"

And with his guide to the premises walking him into the complex, Mr. Wuncler unsheathed his grin once more, for he knew of what came next.


	3. Chapter 2

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

The sun's bright glow over the neighborhood of Woodcrest was merely a radiation of deception for those uninformed of the previous week's event as Mr. Wuncler had struck a deal with Mr. Garcia (a feat thought of as impossible by many).

The head of a prison agreed to help the head of financial franchises. Only one person who read the news could squint hard enough to see in between the lines, and he didn't like it.

Ten-year-old former revolutionary Huey Freeman's past experiences with Wuncler did little more than educate him on how invulnerable Wuncler is - The man gambled the fate of an entire town on a kickball game, was exposed for a conspiracy to murder an innocent man for franchising profits, started a communally destructive food franchise, exploited a ten-year-old girl, Huey's friend Jazmine Dubois, for slave labor to run a lemonade stand under the promise of giving her a pony (which he did not do), and never faced punishment, only minor setbacks which swayed him to other endeavors.

Wuncler built an empire on shattered dreams, raising hopes like building bricks for his safe-house, and when it all came crashing down he'd simply move to a new neighborhood searching for any house with a 'For Sale' sign on it. But most importantly Huey knew, among many things, the relationship between rich white people and foreign persons in power. He could see the "For Sale" sign from his front doorstep.

Huey walked back into the living room with the paper in his hand to greet his younger brother and grandfather.

"Granddad, did you read the newspaper this mornin'?" Huey asked in a slightly concerned tone.

"'The hell are you talkin' about boy?" Huey's grandfather, Robert Freeman, asked in return, preoccupied with his iPad and not whatever bold conspiracy his grandson always had.

"Says here that Wuncler made an advertising deal with Byron Garcia." Huey stated stoically.

"Who!?" Huey's younger brother, Riley, asked.

"He runs a rehabilitation center in the Philippines that's famous for hosting a dance program using its inmates." Huey explained in an almost Wikipedian manner.

"Aw fo' real!? Dat sounds gay as hell. Probably got the dudes twerkin'!"

"Or doin' the homie." Huey firmly stated, eliciting a response of scowling from the raucous younger sibling.

"Nigga you gay."

"But he doesn't allow the inmates to dance for commercial purposes, so Wuncler must have promised something big to change his mind." Huey continued while pondering.

"There you go again with that hatin'. Boy, why are you always hatin' on somebody successful? You always got a problem when somebody hits it big, accomplishes their dream. Why can't you just go along with it Huey? Why player hate when you can proliferate?" Granddad boldly lectured.

"It's appreciate Granddad" Riley corrected.

"Boy, hush" Granddad returned.

"See me, I don't have a problem when other people make it big, 'specially Mr. Wuncler. That's a fine white man if I ever saw one." Granddad lectured at Huey in continuation.

"Granddad, Mr. Wuncler bet the town on a kickball game, tried to kill a man in a staged terrorist attack for profit, exploited Jazmine for slave labor, and let's not forget the Soul-Food restaurant…"

"Alright that's enough, if you can't stop player hatin' then I'mma start proliferating. I'm gon' ask Mr. Wuncler if he can come over for dinner sometime soon and ask if I can help him somehow."

"Granddad, for the last time it's" – SMACK – "ah, why you do dat!?" Riley shouted in pain from Granddads flick to his forehead.

"Boy I don't need you correctin' me, you hear. If I wanna say proliferate then I'mma say proliferate!" Granddad yelled back. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Huey you need to learn that life has comforts outside of knowin' every goddamn thing and they ain't gon' come to you when you take em' from somebody else."

"Yeah, why don't you stack yo' own paper to the roof, instead of knockin' another nigga's down. Versace-less nigga." Riley chimed in.

Huey was about to reinforce his suspicions about Mr. Wuncler's behavior and scold Granddad and Riley for rationalizing such when the television interrupted his first breath with a new BET special starring Jerome Winston (a.k.a. Ma Dukes). Riley saw this as an opportunity to mock his Granddad for the incident where Winston made sexual advances to him, he even paused the television with the TiVo remote several times.

While Granddad and Riley held their humorous clash Huey pondered two disturbing thoughts. What would Mr. Wuncler do if he managed to take advantage of Garcia's deal? Was Huey's comfort really embedded in his extensive knowledge and nothing else? To him these thoughts were separate but equally troublesome.


	4. Chapter 3

NISHINOMIYA, JAPAN

Kyon was your average high school student. He attended school regularly, maintained average grades, lived with a functional family, held a logical disposition, had no criminal record and did nothing that could lead to one in the future. Okay, that last part may be a bit overlooked.

Kyon is a member of the S.O.S Brigade (Spreading excitement all Over the world with Haruhi Suzumiya Brigade) and as a requirement he and the other members often engage in very weird activities for the sake of being very weird, and usually at the beck and call of Ms. Suzumiya herself.

The club's origins trace back to its eccentric, titular leader, Haruhi Suzumiya, whose desire to find extraordinary happenings in order to break the cycle of a mundane life drove her to found a group of people who could not be any more helpful in doing strange things. The group consists of five people: Haruhi Suzumiya, a well-known bossy, gifted, and eccentric loner, Kyon, a cynical student forced into the club by Haruhi, Itsuki Koizumi, an optimistic transfer student and Haruhi's deputy, Mikuru Asahina, a shy and timid schoolgirl who was also forced into the club by Haruhi, and Yuki Nagato, a stoic bookworm.

On the surface they seem as unorthodox as a group of students can be at North High, but it doesn't stop there. Haruhi Suzumiya made a statement before the creation of the S.O.S Brigade and it holds its weight to this day.

"I have no interest in ordinary humans. If there are any aliens, time travelers, sliders, or espers here... come join me. That is all!"

Since then Haruhi has directed her group at committing strange, attention attracting activities in order to draw out said creatures. However, fate and irony have appointed those exact beings as Haruhi's club members. Yuki is an alien, Mikuru is a time traveler, and Itsuki is an esper; although all of them work with their own agendas using their appearances as facades.

Haruhi herself does not realize this, but she has the ability to warp reality to her desires and it is believed that this is why her club mates exist to begin with.

Kyon on the other hand is a normal boy with no special abilities other than his critical insight towards all of their weird adventures, but Kyon eventually came to realize that his place was truly with the brigade when he discovered his underlying attraction for both the fun misadventures he had with the brigade and its infamous leader.

Kyon was your average high school student, but he's not anymore; especially if Haruhi Suzumiya has something to say about it!

Count how many times I've typed the name Haruhi so far. Go on. I dare you.

"Woah, now this is the opportunity of a lifetime!" Haruhi shouted excitedly as she sat at the club's computer, checking e-mails while the other members were playing board games; at least, they were playing but they would soon learn that playtime was over.

_What is it this time? I swear if that nutcase forces Mikuru to dress up in a bunny-suit again then…on second thought, go on. _Kyon thought to himself.

"What is it, oh great and powerful Suzumiya?" Kyon sarcastically asked.

"Come see for yourself, smartass!" Haruhi exclaimed while forcibly dragging Kyon by the collar of his shirt to the computer monitor.

"'We here at the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center want you, Ms. Haruhi Suzumiya, to be our guest of honor at the national live-airing of our promotional ad for the brand new Wunc-Mart franchise. Your efforts will contribute to the people of CPDRC, Wunc-Mart, various donations, and even your own S.O.S Brigade. For more details please check the link below.

Sincerely, Byron F. Garcia'"

Kyon read the email with a steadily rising tone of surprise; it wasn't long before his eyes were as wide as Haruhi's.

_Why the hell would a prison want Haruhi to attend a commercial for a shopping franchise? I didn't even know we were remotely that famous… or infamous. I just hope this turns out better than that crappy movie we did with that tech store sponsor._

Then Kyon, who suspected the email of being spam, clicked the link, and with the S.O.S Brigade huddled around the computer in anticipation. Itsuki pointed out a promising revelation in the text.

"A payment of ninety-eight thousand yen will be made to each participating S.O.S Brigade member." Somehow, Itsuki's grin managed to widen as well. While Itsuki is anything but greedy the thought of 98,000¥ was still exciting to him, and that excitement was contagious.

"All expenses paid first-class flight to Cebu city." Yuki stated with the closest to a happy tone as she could muster, which was still virtually no different from her usual tone.

"All expenses paid luxurious hotel suite!" Mikuru joyously pointed out whilst bouncing in place, rubbing her large bust on the side of Kyon's head in the process. Kyon had too many reasons to smile at this moment.

"Alright, S.O.S Brigade it's time to get serious. It's important that we read this contract thoroughly to search for loopholes." Haruhi announced in an affirmative tone.

_Wow, now out of everything that's happened in the last five minutes this has got to be the most eye-opening! She's actually being reasonable and mature for once, and without anybody's expense._

"For all we know they might take little-miss Mikuru away forever. And we all know that there's only one person who's allowed access to her commodities. Right, Mikuru-kun?" Haruhi retorted in a domineering tone whilst doing her trademark stance – with one hand on her hip and the other at an arm's full extension with a pointed finger. Mikuru winced in fear at the thought of having Haruhi invade her privacy again despite it happening often.

_I spoke way too soon. In fact I'm starting to think that I and Haruhi compete over her… _Kyon thought to himself with his palm resting squarely on his face.

_You mean you thought way too soon. _Itsuki corrected Kyon telepathically.

_Oh shut up!_

"Alright, down to business! I have a plan: I will forward this message to all of your e-mails then, after today's activities, everyone will go over this contract thoroughly at home by themselves and find any exploitation. Failure to do so will result in a death penalty!" Haruhi was slipping from affirmative to aggressive. Well, more like sprinting. "As my second in command I am personally tasking you with getting Kyon to really step it up, okay Koizumi!"

"As you wish, Ms. Suzumiya."

_Teacher's pet._

"And Yuki I'm gonna need you to do some major geek-work to see if this email is legit you hear me?"

"Okay."

_Why would we need to do anything if Yuki could just do all the work in a couple of seconds? That numb-skull Haruhi is rushing things head on without thinking as usual._

Later that day as the S.O.S Brigade was nearing the end of their outdoor activities for the day Kyon and Haruhi were sitting down side by side in the park. The sunset was bathing the two in orange after another summer day of adventure.

"Kyon?"

"Hm?"

"Are you…comfortable here?" Haruhi solemnly asked.

"What, you mean I have a choice now?" Kyon jokingly returned.

"Quit bein' a moron and answer me!" Haruhi turned to face Kyon "Are you comfortable here?"

"What do you mean by here?" Kyon returned Haruhi's genuine interest.

"Just…here." Haruhi starred right into Kyon's eyes, never breaking contact. Kyon could see it looking back at her; he could see the melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.

"Hmph, whad'ya mean 'here', we're never here because we're always moving around. We're always on an adventure, right?" Kyon's response startled even him, he didn't know what possessed him to speak this way but it was persistent enough to keep him talking. "As a wise woman once said 'Good things come to those who wait, but we live in the modern world so we have to dig through the ground to find them!'"

A moment of silence lingered through the air before Haruhi started giggling uncontrollably, then chuckling and snorting. It wasn't long before she held her sides in a fit of laughter.

"That was the corniest thing I've ever heard." Haruhi fought her urges long enough to speak.

_Figures she would preach that kind of crap with confidence and then turn around and laugh when it's said right back at her. Just goes to show how often she listens to herself._

"Well I learn from the best, isn't that right leader." Kyon bounced back after having been called corny by the Queen of Cheese herself.

"Tomorrow. In the clubroom. Don't forget it okay." Haruhi commanded as she began walking away before turning around and announcing. "Oh and by the way, it's Miss Captain Leader the First to you, got it!"

Kyon responded to Haruhi's goodbye with a simple nod, for fear that he might say something else that could be used against him as evidence in the presence of Haruhi.

_I'm comfortable with you even if you're not comfortable here…what the hell is wrong with me today?_

With that each member of the S.O.S Brigade went home retaining a newfound possibility in their minds; however, Kyon still seemed off-put by the idea of receiving a prestigious invitation from a prison.

He also wondered how he was supposed to analyze legal text without any lawyering skills what so ever.

Kyon's doubts weighed even heavier on his head in the form of two disturbances. Why would the head of a prison go through that much trouble to have the real S.O.S Brigade when they could've just used impersonators? Was his newfound comfort in being with the S.O.S Brigade, with Haruhi, placed wisely? Because he was going to be in a prison with them; although, he would not be a prisoner. Kyon mulled over these thoughts as he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Huey Freeman held a look of intense thought on his face for an entire afternoon. His mind was assessing his issues from every rational angle possible, yet he could not seem to penetrate the issues at hand.

He spent the day with Jazmine DuBois, his friend of mixed Caucasian and African American descent. However, instead of doing something remotely stimulating in their usual activities, which involved Huey's conspiracies, Jazmine's naiveté, and disagreements over such, Huey had been so preoccupied with his own sleuthing that he almost completely ignored his friend.

Jazmine was uncomfortably accustomed to this relationship as she had seen Huey in this mood often, and was his only friend. Jazmine simply sat there on the grassy hill next to Huey with both arms extended downward into the ground, her head tilted upward in wonder while his was fixed straight forward, and their large hair mimicking the oak tree swaying in the breeze beside them.

Huey always looked so alone to her but she knew he wasn't lonely; he was isolated. To her Huey was always too concerned with the future to find comfort with the present; he looked forward without ever looking next to himself to see if someone was looking back at him. So she stopped looking and started talking.

"You wanna go watch TV?"

"No."

"You wanna go ride bikes?"

"No."

"Huey, is there something wrong?"

"There's always somethin' wrong."

"Is there something I can do?"

"No."

"You know what, I don't believe you. Just tell me what's eating you already. I'm sure there's SOMETHING I can do."

A silence cut the tension in the air and without a change of tone Huey asked Jazmine a question.

"Jazmine, what do you think freedom is?"

"Freedom is…" Jazmine pondered with eyes upward. "My daddy told me that freedom is what our ancestors fought for."

"Yeah, but what is it?"

"The ability to do whatever you want, I guess."

"Do you think we're free?"

"Well, duh, if we weren't free we wouldn't be here. There wouldn't be any ice cream, or ponies or even summer!"

"Jazmine, do you think freedom is a comfort?"

Tilting her head in confusion Jazmine replied "Well, I think not having freedom would be pretty uncomfortable…" Snapping out of her wonder Jazmine worriedly asked "Wait, why are you asking me these weird questions? This isn't another one of your crazy ideas is it?"

"There's a prison that uses dancing as slave labor."

"What!? That's impossible, dancing is fun! How can dancing be used for slavery?"

"A friend of mine, Caliso Agulto, got locked up there a few years ago. He was framed for a crime he didn't even commit and now they force him to dance because the head of the prison said so."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"But he's supposedly 'comfortable' so that makes it okay to them. In fact they say it's better for them in the long run, but they're still in prison. If he's comfortable in prison then despite the fact that he didn't belong there that makes it okay for him to stay there. Do you think he's comfortable?"

"No. I guess not." Jazmine suddenly pepped up from her sulking tone and shockingly asked "Wait, Huey what are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothin'." Huey stated as he began walking away. "I'm retired."

It wasn't a long walk home from the iconic hill for Huey as he arrived at his home, and upon entering it he heard laughter coming from the dining room. Walking in Huey saw Granddad and Wuncler talking with each other excitedly. Apparently Granddad took to amusing Mr. Wuncler with another one of his senile stories.

"Ha-ha, y'know Jesse was too heated about that election! Let's just say it wasn't the last time he threatened to cut a nigga's nuts off." Granddad exclaimed in the middle of their fit of laughter.

"Ha-hah, yeah that Jackson was always a riot."

The smiles ceased as Huey stood there in the doorway with an interrogative look on his face aimed at Granddad. Granddad excused himself promptly.

"Hold on a sec, Mr. Wuncler."

"Take your time, Robert."

With one hand waving at Wuncler and the other scooting Huey into the kitchen Granddad began whispering to Huey commandingly.

"Boy, go out in the back with Riley. Me and Mr. Wuncler got some things to discuss."

"Granddad, tell the truth. Are you gonna sell us out to Mr. Wuncler?"

"Well, uh…"

Huey merely scowled at Granddad, prompting him to respond hurriedly.

"I think I hear Mr. Wuncler callin' me. Nobody likes a bad host Huey now go on boy, shoo."

Huey just sighed and walked out of the backdoor on to the patio. Riley was talking to Mr. Wuncler's adult grandson, Ed Wuncler III, about something involving violence excitedly. Huey being concerned for both his younger sibling and the well-known troublemaking Ed decided to eavesdrop.

"So you tellin' me them Filipino niggas gon' be strapped." Riley asked with childish concern.

"Hell yeah little man. They some fucked up people out there; they got cartels, rebel groups, gangs. The worst of dem is the Cebu Sputniks, dem niggas do a lot more than sellin' bad weed and havin' the occasional machete fight, they some stone-cold vigilantes. That dancin' shit is probably the closest thing they got to bein' civilized." Ed paused to take a sip of malt liquor and burp loudly. "I know, my boy Remy told me."

"Wow, so you sayin' I'm gon' need my shank when I go there."

"A shank. A shank? Nigga you gon' need some Batman type o' shit to survive goin' over there."

"Ay Ed you know who you talkin' to? It's me, ya boy Young Reezy! I grew up in the struggle I don't need no type o' protection except for these."

Riley then began shuffling his feet in place and throwing punches at the air in front of him in a comical, though coordinated, fashion. Huey interrupted his second conversation for the day and received glares from Riley and Ed who apparently disapproved of Huey overhearing them knowing that Huey would not approve of their volatile plans. Ed then broke the silence.

"Ay, why is he there?"

"Granddad sent me out here." Huey stated firmly.

"He ain't gon' snitch on us now is he?"

"Huey please man, for once in your life don't be a snitch. Ed told me we gon' need protection when we go there!" Riley pleads.

Huey walked towards Riley and stated assertively to him. "Stay out of trouble."

"I'll stay where I want, fuck-boy!"

Huey and Riley held a visual stand-off against one another until granddad interrupted their stern staring contest.

"Boys, come on in. I've got some exciting news for you."

The three of them walked inside toward the dining room. Huey noticed that Mr. Wuncler had left and Granddad, smiling lecherously, delivered the news.

"Y'all are goin' on a free trip to the Philippines!"

Riley celebrated joyously while Huey sighed and shrugged his shoulders before going upstairs and into his room.

Huey opened his closet to the same armory that he once planned to use to free another one of his friends from unjust imprisonment. The plan was thwarted by his lack of a ride, but it looks like things have changed this time. Huey then looked over the messages he received from Caliso, each detailing the circumstances of the downtrodden, the irrationality of hope. Huey remembered why he quit being a revolutionary.

"You can't change the world. Don't waste your life trying."

Huey then recalled a memorable conversation with Granddad.

"Granddad, what do you do when you can't do anything and there's nothin' you can do?"

Granddad turned to face Huey with a smile. "You do what you can."

Huey began reflecting on his career as a revolutionary; the power in his tightly balled fist as he raised it above his head in an ensemble of defiance. His mind was ready to become an unstoppable force. First, he turned on his computer and began typing…


	6. Chapter 5

FLIGHT 203, PHILIPPINE SEA

"If you look out of your windows you'll see the Philippine Sea…" The narrator chimed about a half hour into the flight.

"Wow! It's so beautiful." Mikuru said with both hands pressed against the window in excitement.

_Little does Ms. Asahina know that she's talking to a mirror._

Kyon's blissful thoughts, and facial expression, were interrupted by a sharp thump on the back of his seat. He looked behind his sit directly at Haruhi who was sitting next to Mikuru.

"What?" Haruhi asked with a stern expression.

"Quit kicking my chair."

"You're delusional. No one's kickin' your chair."

"I mean it, stop."

"Whatever." Haruhi closed her eyes, put her hands behind her head, and turned her head sideways.

_Geez she can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. *Sigh* Now for some peace and q- _*THUMP*

"Haruhi, I swear to god."

Itsuki, Haruhi, and Mikuru all shared a laugh at the expense of Kyon's nerves. Yuki sat behind all of them reading a book in silence, as opposed to the large man who snored loudly next to her. Kyon envied Yuki's ability to mentally block annoying things. Annoying things like Haruhi.

A few hours later while Haruhi and Mikuru were resting in their seats Itsuki got up and left a note telling Kyon to meet him in the plane's restroom.

_I really hope none of the passengers make the connection between two guys who were sitting next to each other leaving their seats and the bathroom being occupied. Koizumi smiling at me all the damn time is creepy enough as is._

"Have you noticed a change in Ms. Suzumiya lately?" Koizumi asked.

"She's obnoxious, bossy, perverse, aggressive…so pretty much nothing." Kyon returned sarcastically.

"You mean as of late she hasn't done anything that was out of character?"

"Well, she did ask me if I was comfortable being here a few days before we left and she looked very serious about it, sad even"

"Hm." Itsuki showed a straight-faced expression which worried Kyon because this could only mean something serious.

"What?" Kyon asked with raised concern.

"I've been told by members of the organization that Ms. Suzumiya is expected to have another threat to her anxiety in the near future."

"Any ideas of what it's going to be?"

"No. That's more of Ms. Asahina's department really."

"Wait, so what's wrong with Haruhi?"

"It is believed that her mentality is off balance. Before, Ms. Suzumiya was driven by a desire to control her fate. Now, it would appear that she wishes to control the fates of others."

"You mean like she's been doing?" Kyon facetiously responded.

Koizumi giggled before continuing "Well this time it's different, more powerful. Ms. Suzumiya's desires stemmed from differentiating herself from the masses. Now, she gets to be in charge of the masses. The organization believes that Ms. Suzumiya's desire for dominance might not bode well with those masses."

"She'll have a power-trip then."

"Not exactly. Ms. Suzumiya's inner feelings have been gradually slipping from nomadic to covetous. From impulsively intruding to impulsively possessive. She's somewhere in the middle where she's less concerned with acting out her desires and more concerned with influencing the desires of others. Her recently expressed concern for your comfort is a reassurance to her that you will support her through this stage and an attempt to cover up her inner feelings. Honestly I'm jealous that she could pull off that kind of façade so well."

"Wait, so she's going to focus on whipping the inmates and leaving me alone!?"

"Well, that's just it. The other people that Ms. Suzumiya will be working with won't take very kindly to someone like her in charge. That's why it's very important for you to support her even if she doesn't tell you to."

"So I'm babysitting a tyrant, great. This still doesn't add up though. What's with these people we're going to see? From what I heard they'd be willing to listen to someone like Haruhi."

"Not all of them would."

"Wait, what?"

Itsuki yawned. "We'll continue this discussion later, but for now let's just get some rest okay."

Itsuki left the restroom and Kyon stood standing there thinking heavily for a few minutes before making his way back to his seat. He stopped for a quick second to look at Haruhi. She was sleeping like a baby. A pillow wrapped around her head and a determined, aggressive look on her face.

_Even in her sleep… _Kyon smiled to himself.

Kyon then sat next to Itsuki and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
